


Dreams of the Undead

by Misen



Category: Diabolik Lovers
Genre: Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Demons, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vampires, revision of an old story, yui is also not how she appears in the canon material
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:00:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misen/pseuds/Misen
Summary: Vampire twins Mitsuto and Mitsuna have grown accustomed to a quiet and easy eternal life. That's all overturned when the latter of the two is forcibly enlisted to help a pair of demonic brothers.
Relationships: Komori Yui/Original Character(s), Tsukinami Carla/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	Dreams of the Undead

**Author's Note:**

> Mitsuna returns!!! I've been working behind the scenes for a while to revise and reintroduce Mitsuna. Hopefully, this new story will live up to everyone's expectations! Enjoy~!

As a child, I was quite fond of the ocean to start. My first home in Japan was perched in an expanse of rolling hills blanketed by a thick forest that I was too young to explore at the time, though I remember desperately wanting to. I had never seen the ocean in anything more than a picture book up until my father thought it prudent to uproot myself, my twin, and our mother and take us across the world. Though the memory is not very clear to me due to my age, I recall being rather seasick as we sailed from Japan to China. From there, the trip through China seemed to pass in such a blur that I cannot even remember our method of travel. Nevertheless, we ended up in Europe- England, to be precise- on a treeless moor with a single black-brick house awaiting us. The moor itself was effectively surrounded by what I might hazard to describe as a stretch of woods, with a particular section that dropped off into a harrowing cliffside, overlooking the tumultuous sea beyond.

It seemed, once I had gained the constitution to go adventuring, that I would always end up at that cliffside. No matter what direction I took, or how I intended to circle back home, I always came back to it. Always at that damned bluff, with such an abrupt decline one might think God himself sliced the land away with a blade. The sight of the gray ocean, constantly churning and roaring, became so redundant to me that I grew to dislike it. 

_ By the time my human life ended, I hated the ocean entirely… Or perhaps it was because my human life ended, I came to hate it. _

I wonder now why I smell the sea. Salt clings to the air, dampening each shallow breath I take. I’m overtly aware of how slick my skin feels, how the cloth of my dress sticks to me as if soaked and dry all at once. The scent of fish is unpleasant, if not nauseating for the mere fact that it is so overbearing. I might have assumed it was that scent that caused me to wake up so suddenly, but the real reason is equally obnoxious. The odor that stirred me has mingled with the scent of fish and salt and rust. It’s a smell that I know quite well now. Rot. The unmistakable fragrance of death, in all of its grotesqueness, is thick in the atmosphere. It’s so potent now, however, that it shattered the blankness of my mind and forced me to think once more. I shift around in the tight space I find myself confined in, my joints sore and every vein and muscle in my body screaming for a nutrient that I wholeheartedly denied myself… some vague length of time ago.

As sensation floods back into my tired body, my mind urges me to explore these foreign surroundings. Though, I’m too fatigued to do much more than think. I’m swayed in lofty motions as something repeatedly thuds against something else in the distance. As I’m rocked, I can’t help but draw up some deductions of what might currently be happening to me. It would seem, from the smell and constant motion I’m in, I’m on a ship. More specifically, judging from the ruffles of taffeta beneath me, I’m in a coffin on a ship. I nearly laugh, thinking of how well it suits this current state of mine. And, with enough energy pooling in my decaying tissues, I push away the lid of the coffin in one swift motion. It hits the metal floor with an awful thud, doing well to announce my presence. I sit up and gauge the accuracy of my assumptions. All around me are various luggage and large wooden boxes nailed shut. A rat runs parallel to me, drawing my eye to the half of the cargo behind me. Almost instantly, a gasp escapes my lips and I clasp my cold hand over my mouth. 

Piled on top of each other, swarmed by maggots and other creatures I’d rather not stare at long enough to name, is a collection of bodies. Their uniforms suggest they might have once been the crew of the ship, though what remains of them leaves nothing more to infer. Their heads are missing, along with their hands… and if I weren’t sure about how those appendages were removed, I might think the rats were the cause. But I know… I know too well. I swing my legs out of the coffin, slowly, and plant my feet on the steel floor. I wobble for a moment, a terrible prickling coursing down my calves as what little blood remains in my body trickles downward. I hazard a step but fall forward almost immediately. 

_ So this is desiccation…  _

I place my hands beside my head, palms to the floor, and try to push myself up. I can’t even bring myself up a centimeter. I sigh and lay flat on the floor, completely devoid of the strength I had become accustomed to before I decided to go to sleep. How long has it been, then, since I fell asleep? I ponder this on the floor, trying to recall my most recent memory. He had tried to talk me out of it. Warned me of this very thing, this desiccation as he called it. For us who used to be human, our bodies can no longer generate blood automatically. Therefore, we have to draw it from other sources. There’s no real risk of death from starvation, however. If we forego feeding, we won’t cease to exist. Though, our bodies will absorb all the blood that remains within until there is nothing left. Our organs will cease some function, we’ll lose the ability to move over time, and all that allured us to this un-life will be stripped away. 

Still, knowing that, I chose this fate for myself. I sentenced myself to what could only be called hibernation. At the time, it seemed like the ideal thing. A long sleep, where I could retreat to the darkness of my mind. For a time, I could just exist in absolute silence. When I decided to do so, I was so desperate for an escape that I hadn’t really considered what might become of me once I woke up.  _ How long has it been? _ I lift my head, just enough so that my chin can press into the floor and allow me a better vantage to look around. Barring the noise of the ship slicing through rough waves, it seems rather quiet. A dead crew… perhaps dead passengers as well. Knowing him, I would be surprised to find a single living soul in this place. After all, my twin and I are quite similar. Or… we were.

A rat approaches me, sniffing around my face. I hold my breath, though I don’t think I can quite fool it into thinking I’m entirely dead. It squeaks, cautiously beginning its retreat upon realizing our respective places in the food chain. But, there isn’t enough time for it to scamper off to safety. My hunger reignites me for a brief moment, just long enough for me to lunge forward and sink my fangs into its plump body. I gag the moment its fur grazes my tongue, but I don’t release my grip even slightly. The moment its blood bursts into my mouth, blazing hot, I can think of little else. It wriggles against my face, clawing at my cheeks and for a moment, I allow it. The more it moves, the quicker its blood fills my mouth. In just a few swallows, I’ve drained the poor thing down to the last drop. It falls from my mouth unceremoniously and I dab away any grime that might be on my lips. The scratches on my face burn for a moment before fading away entirely. If they were any less superficial, I might have had a scar for a little while. I chuckle to myself and stand up, finally having enough energy to roam freely.

I find my way out of the cargo bay, through a long dark corridor with the sole goal of going upward. As the rat’s blood moves throughout my body, I can feel some power being restored. My sense of smell grows stronger, even my sight becomes clearer. I could move faster if I wanted to, but I shy away from exerting myself. I would rather not make it a habit of eating rats if I can help it. Although, I’m not quite sure of any alternative… 

By the time I reach the main deck, it seems the sun has begun to rise. I come to the railing of the ship, looking out to the open ocean. In the distance, I can see some shadow of a landmass. Though, I can’t be entirely sure. I stare at the shadow for some time, squinting and leaning over the railing as if it might help me identify where this ship is heading. 

“That’s California,” a familiar voice calls out, beckoning my attention to the far side of the deck.

I turn in his direction, almost puzzled and unsure if I’m seeing correctly. I feel somewhat sick as he approaches me, seeming to grow taller with every step. His hair is the same, as dark as mine. His eyes haven’t changed their hue, perhaps only becoming more golden since I last saw him. However, when I started my hibernation, he and I were the same height. He’s since surpassed me and though he only appears a year or two older, his styling of clothing is novel to me. 

“Good morning, Mitty,” he says in his own cheeky way, flicking the side of my cheek. “Still wearing some of your breakfast, are ya’?”

I grumble and wipe my cheek on the back of my hand. 

“You’ve gotten taller,” I tell him, almost instantly causing him to beam with joy.

“And you look more like a lady now. Must have been all the beauty sleep you got,” he laughs, turning his back to the railing and leaning against it.

I shake my head, looking around at the empty deck.  _ No other passengers? _ I can only assume he’s caught on to what I must be thinking because, in the next moment, my brother speaks.

“There were originally 150 people on this ship, not including captain and crew,” he announces.

“And what became of them?” I ask, fearing I know the answer already.

“Well, it was the strangest thing. I boarded the ship at Felixstowe with my poor sister, dead of cholera, and as soon as we left the shore… They all just disappeared.”

_ Cholera… How insulting. _

“I take it they were thrown overboard after you drank their blood, then,” I say.

He nods with an affirming grunt, almost as if waiting for me to congratulate him. Expecting that reaction from me, he stares into my eyes for a moment completely silent. When I don’t smile or laugh or ask to revel in his atrocities with him, his shoulders fall and he sighs.

“What year is it?” I ask finally.

Judging from the way his body has changed, and I suppose mine as well, it must have been some time. He leans toward me with a playful gleam in his eyes, his gaze asking me if I’d really like to know. I stand firm and wait for the answer, despite my own fears.

“1914. May 29th, 1914,” he says.

My lips part, but I don’t allow my jaw to fall. The date cycles through my mind again and again, though it doesn’t seem to make sense no matter how many times I repeat it.  _ May 29th, 1914.  _

“You were asleep for quite some time. 30 years is no small feat, even for us,” he says, hoisting himself up onto the railing.

30 years… I’ve been asleep for 30 years. He’s right, even for us, that’s no small amount of time. Judging by his delivery of the news and the way he’s looking at me now, I feel as though he resents me. Being alone for 30 years… I doubt it was an enjoyable time for him, no matter how much he might pretend it was. I bolster myself and look past him, trying to dull the guilt I feel burning a hole in my stomach. The mass of land in the distance has grown closer and with the light of the early morning sun, I can make out small buildings lining the coast.

“Why California?” I ask him.

“I have a bad feeling about Europe right now… I thought it might be nice to experience something new. According to the international rumor mill, The United States has become some kind of global superpower. They even have their own slogan:  _ The American Dream _ ,” he states with some kind of grand flourish that, despite its effort, does little to lift my spirits.

_ The American Dream…  _ What kind of dream should I be having? The way I am now, with an entire eternity ahead of me… what can I possibly dream about?

“Mitsuna.”

When my brother says my full name, my eyes immediately lock onto his. It’s very rare for him to call me anything other than Mitty. It’s been that way since we were children. So now, with a serious look carved into his face, my attention can’t be directed anywhere else.

“Aren’t you the least bit excited? After so much time, we’re finally together again. I mean, we’ve always been together. But this is the first we are talking to one another in 3 decades. We’re off to experience a fresh start, in a new world. Isn’t there anything you’re yearning for now? Or… are you planning on withering away again?”

I lower my gaze, contemplating his questions. Something I yearn for? Withering away? It’s a bit overwhelming to think about now, but as more and more of the coast comes clearly into my view… I suppose there is some excitement stirring inside of me. Some intrigue.

“The world has changed a lot and without that bastard following us, we can do anything. See what we want to see, know what we want to know… Finally, we can live after our death! Finally, we can enjoy all vampirism has to offer,” Mitsuto tells me.

I scoff, but can’t contest his words. He pats my head, much like he used to do when we were children, and smiles. I want to believe him. That perhaps in a new setting, there will be more to this eternity. If he is right, then… there must be more to the world than what we’ve seen so far. For that reason, maybe I woke up at the right time.

“What do you say, Mitty? Shall we have an American Dream together?” he asks, extending his hand to me.

I sigh but eventually nod. 

“I think I’ll conjure one up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave your thoughts below, I'm curious to see what you think of the changes.


End file.
